A Lot To Be Thankful For
by NaruYasha352
Summary: An unfortunate accident leaves Red team stranded from their loved ones for Thanksgiving. But that doesn't stop everyone from trying to make the best of things. One-shot, barfy-sweet fluff warning


**Disclaimer - **I do not own TF2 or its characters. I'm just forcing them into a fluffy holiday misadventure story for my own amusement.

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**A/N: **Sorry if this is poorly conceived and lacks proper editing, I wrote it off and on through the day while in between peeling potatoes and deviling eggs and running around Harvest setting things on fire.

Happy Thanksgiving to my friend and readers. ;)**  
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**-A Lot To Be Thankful For-**

No one had expected the turn of events which lead to our favorite nine mercenaries being trapped without transportation from their home base the day before Thanksgiving (even though Blu's last fight with Red accidentally causing the location's only train station to be blown from the face of the earth wasn't an all that improbable situation when one thought harder about it).

No one on the Red team had foreseen the tragic mishap that had caused them to be currently missing their families' special once-a-year holiday dinner. (True, they weren't given an official holiday off, but what the Administration didn't know wouldn't hurt them. It would only hurt the mercs themselves if the Administration ever found out they were taking holidays off.)

And, of course, no one could have possibly predicted that they'd be standing there staring at the large crater that had once been the single train station in the middle of the dry, lonesome desert, while Scout, his heavy suitcases lying in the dirt beside him, sat crying uncontrollably, in a high pitched shriek much like an eight year old little girl. Possibly younger.**  
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"EEEAAAAAAH!" Scout bawled impossibly louder than he had for the past thirteen minutes. The Bostonian's words had begun to make a slight amount of sense again, despite all the sniffling and whining. "Never missed a Thanksgivin' dinner with my Ma and brothers! Never! Not once! And now...and now...and n-now! EEEGH_AAAAH_!" Scout erupted into another set of sobs and hiccups.

Spy handed him a handkerchief. "Suck it up, boy, you're not zhe only one affected by zhis unfortunate turn of events. It's not like zhe rest of us will be enjoying any time off wiz our significant others."

Angrily, Scout sniffled out a mumbled complaint but grabbed the offered hanky and honked loudly into it. Spy stifled a gag of disgust and told him to keep it when he tried offering it back.

"Spy's right, Scout. We're all in the same boat," Engineer sighed. He sat down on his own packed luggage and rested his chin in the mechanical palm of his hand. It provided little comfort, but it was habit. "Ain't none of us gonna be getting home for Thanksgivin' this year, but I'm sure our kin'll understand."

"Aye, and th' phones still work so we can 'least talk te our loved ones an' tell 'em why we're not gonna be showin' up," Demoman said in an attempt to cheer his fellow men up. Whispering, he added, "Just remember ta leave out th' part where any of us on Red busted up the trains. It was all the _Blu's_ fault!"

"It _was_ the Blu's fault!" Soldier piped up, shoving Demoman aside. "They deliberately sabotaged the trains before ditching the field a day early! Now those cowardly maggots are at home laughing at us while they stuff their faces with their momma's gravy and dressing!" He shook his fists into the air. "AND I HOPE THEY CHOKE ON IT!" he shouted for no real reason other than the explosive anger issues.

Scout started to whimper and sob again.

"Vell, vhat's done is done, nothing ve can do about it," Medic spoke up from behind the group. "Unless perhaps Engineer knows how to reconstruct an automated supply train from scratch."

Engineer shook his head sadly. "I know I'm good, but I ain't a miracle worker, Doc."

Medic shrugged. "Vell zhen, ve might as vell go back to zhe base." The German began walking away.

"That's...it? No...Thanksgiving?" Scout squeaked before bursting into another long, pained sob. "I WANT MY MAAAA!"

Heavy sighed deeply. He held a large suitcase in his left hand, nearly as big as his own chest. In the other he held Sasha, in her special satin lined carrying case. He carried both as if they were feather light. "I am going to miss tasting my Mother's special pumpkin borscht very much."

Pyro hung his head and placed his gloves over his eye pieces. "Hph." This year there would be no turkey to roast to a crisp. He couldn't bear the thought of it.

Sniper put a hand on the firebug's slumped shoulder. Thinking of his own Mum's delicious home made gravy, he felt a small part of him wanting to break down and cry like poor Scout. But he was too professional for that.

Looking on the bright side of things, the Aussie removed his eyes from the depressing crater and addressed everyone cheerfully. "Aw, buck up, mates. Not like we can't still 'ave our own li'l 'oliday get together right 'ere."

Heavy instantly perked up. "Ah! Is good idea, Sniper! Ve should not be sad babies today. Ve are tough men!" he shouted, raising his suitcases up high. "Ve make our own Thanksgiving dinner!"

"Aye, there's plenty of odds an' ends in th' stock freezer. I'm sure we could cobble one of th' meat products inta some kind of turkey shape!" Demoman suggested tipsily.

"No fake turkeys!" Scout half whined, half sobbed, legs kicking out in anger. "Thanksgivin' ain't Thanksgivin' without a REAL turkey!"

"Scout, Zanksgiving is whatever you make of it," Spy said, rolling his eyes. Of course the infantile Bostonian had never dreamed of enjoying a succulent Thanksgiving meal of wine and caviar (eaten from the curvy stomach of one's lover.)

Ignoring the tantrum throwing youth, the older men gathered together to discuss matters. Even Medic paused and turned to give a curious look to the group while adjusting his glasses.

"There's a bunch of potatoes in the dry bins. I can mash some up fer us," Engineer spoke with a smile.

"I've got some powdered gravy in me van's tucker supply. Not the best out there, but it'll do," said Sniper.

"I can dig the peas and corn out of the freeze dried rations!" Soldier suggested while saluting.

"Hph ffph!" Pyro clapped his gloves together excitedly. (He had several cans of pumpkin filling in his closet. Surely they could do something with it.)

"Aces! Things're lookin' up already, mates!" Sniper gave a thumbs up.

"Well heck, what're we standin' here for? Let's get back ta base an' get ta cookin' up Thanksgivin' dinner, fellas," said Engineer.

"Aye!" Demoman cheered.

"Affirmative," Soldier declared, saluting. They ran toward the base to go prepare.

"Zo, ve are making our own dinner zhen, ja?" Medic asked the leftover group of men.

"Yup," Engineer confirmed. "You got anything special ya can whip up, Doc?"

"Vell," the German pondered to himself, looking distantly into the horizon. "I zuppose zhere is a little somezhing of a dessert I can create vis supplies on hand, vis Herr Pyro's help."

Pyro nodded eagerly. "Ffffph!"

"Great, let's move out then," Engineer said. He and Pyro grabbed Medic and began heading to base. Scout's whimpering could be heard from behind. Mildly annoyed at the Bostonian's incessant childishness when it came to not getting his own way, Engineer turned and called for him. "C'mon, Scout! Quit mopin' an' git over here!"

"I don't wanna! I want a _real_ Thanksgivin'!" Scout whined.

"We're gonna have a _real_ Thanksgivin'! And that means all of us, so GIT!"

Scout didn't move, instead choosing to sob angrily into his suitcase while hugging it tightly.

Engineer pretended to be disinterested in Scout's condition. He shrugged and turned away. "Alright, ya wanna be that way then ya can stay out here." The Texan smirked and called out loudly, "But don't let Heavy know yer out here. Ya know how he is about team participation an' all."

At that statement (which was no idle threat on Heavy's part), Scout pouted at the Texan, but hefted himself up and dragged his suitcases along behind him.

"I'm comin'," he mumbled, holding back more sniffles. "Stupid Heavy. Stupid Thanksgiving. Won't be the same without Ma. This _fake_ Thanksgiving's gonna suck!"

The Bostonian kicked a large rock to emphasize his point, but only succeeded in sending a blinding pain through his big toe.

"OW! STUPID ROCK! STUPID THANKSGIVING!"

/

Nobody had expected the cooking to turn out half as well as it was going, but it was. Engineer had his potatoes whipped, and Sniper was busy at the stove, adding various spices to his imitation gravy. It was beginning to taste surprisingly more like real gravy with every added spoonful of flavoring.

More surprisingly, Demoman and Soldier had worked well together without a single battle of wounded macho pride erupting between the two. They had turned the peas and corn into a palatable looking casserole dish, and were now in the midst of combing through the freezer to locate an adequate meat product to serve as a main dish.

"By Uncle Sam's belt, look at this!" Soldier cried, throwing a heavy package of imitation pork substance aside. He revealed a large frozen turkey (a real one) that had been hidden in the back.

"Well poke me other eye out, it's a flippin' turkey! A grade-A real one, too," exclaimed Demoman. He would have gone in for a closer look but at that moment, received a poke in his good eye from Soldier. "AIY!" The Scot recoiled, rubbing his eyeball.

"What? You said," Soldier began obliviously.

"It was jus' a figure o' speech, ah di'nna mean it for real!" Soldier shrugged at him. Demoman frowned, but his anger waned quickly. It was the holiday, after all. And Soldier was his bff. "Ah, I cannae stay mad at you, Solly! Gimme a hug, ye big weirdo."

"Affirmative, good buddy!" Soldier said, throwing open his arms.

They hugged in a very manly hug.

Everyone else cheered for the newfound turkey. It was examined by Medic, inspected by Engineer, assessed by Heavy, admired by Pyro, and gasped at by Scout. It was thawed quickly courtesy of Pyro, basted by Demoman, stuffed by Engineer, and thrown in the oven by Sniper.

"This is turning out ta be a fine Thanksgiving after all, ain't it, mates?" The Aussie washed up and went off smiling, to the phone to give his dear Mum a ring. She'd be fine after hearing from him and knowing that he only missed the holiday dinner because of a mishap (not because he was dead).

Despite the appearance of a genuine turkey on hand, Scout continued to pout while attempting to make his favorite personal recipe of deviled eggs. Hopefully no one would yell at him for adding in ketchup, his favorite condiment of all and a key ingredient to the recipe.

"So there's a real turkey. This still doesn't feel like a _real_ Thanksgiving ta me," he couldn't help but mutter while slicing the two dozen boiled eggs in half.

"Here, allow me," said Spy as he passed the counter, with his dishrag tossed over his shoulder. He took the remote from the top of the old television set sitting there and clicked on a random football game. "Just like home, eh?"

Scout glared at him. "No!" His attention soon became focused on intense sports and he became docile for the moment, to everyone's silent appreciation.

"We're all kinda like family, ain't we?" Demoman mused. "We've all been workin' t'gether fer so long, we might as well be."

"Here, here," Soldier toasted him back with a bottle of beer. "I know I've said this out loud before, and it's most likely the booze talking, but you are the greatest team of soldiers I have ever had the pleasure of working along side with!" He saluted everyone. Even Scout.

"Sniper, you better not be on the phone for a damn hour! I gotta call my Ma!" Scout whined to the back room after his plate of eggs was completed.

Meanwhile, Medic and Pyro were busy in one corner of the kitchen with their super secret desert. It required the utmost concentration to make (or so Medic had claimed), and anyone who dared come to attempt a peek was kept at bay by Pyro's open flames. Except for Sniper, from whom they required a certain amount of assistance. And flour.

"What're the Doc and Py makin' over there?" Engineer asked the Aussie upon his return to the other side of the room, but he was sworn to secrecy and only responded with a smile and a wink.

"Sorry mate, Doc'll remove my kidneys if I snitch," he replied. "And knowin' the Doc, it's no idle threat."

"Dinner vill be great," Heavy spoke eagerly, rolling the leftover dough into biscuits. "Even vithout family, is good times vith friends!" He finished abruptly and grabbed Engineer and Sniper, pulling them into a crushing three-man hug. The manliness of it radiated throughout the room.

"I feel so loved!" Engineer gasped weakly.

"Me too," agreed Sniper, hoping that his spine wasn't going to snap under the crushing muscle of friendship!

The kitchen was full of feels, there could be no denying it. The air was thick with the scent of delicious food and repressed pent-up emotions. It made Spy feel all tingly, but not in the way he most often preferred.

"What I wouldn't give for a tray of caviar, some fine wine, and a cozy hotel suite in Paris," Spy sighed to himself.

"Suck it up, why doncha, Frogs legs!" Scout hissed from behind him, causing him to pocket the photo and look offended. "You're not the only one here who's missin' out." The Bostonian thrust his tray of eggs beneath Spy's nose. "Deviled egg?"

The Frenchman cocked an incredulous brow.

"Hey, I'm being nice here!" Scout angrily offered the tray again. "The least you could do is partake of my freakin' hospitality!"

Spy sighed and took one. They were surprisingly not awful. Something about boiled egg yolks, mayonnaise, mustard, ketchup, and just the right amount of vinegar had combined to create an interestingly palatable hors d'oeuvre.

"If I dare ask...Are you enjoying your makeshift Thanksgiving yet, Scout?" Spy inquired.

"I dunno. Maybe a little," Scout responded grumpily. "But not much!"

The scent of a real cooking turkey, the sound of an exiting football game, and the inebriated, friendly chatter of people he kind of but didn't really hate all that much filling the room was making things harder for him not to enjoy. Something else was wafting into his nostrils. Scout couldn't tell just what, but it was close to giving him a nosegasm. But he still missed his Ma.

"IS FOOD TIME!" Heavy's voice called. "Everyone to table, or I crush!"

Everyone ran to grab their seats. Though Heavy's smiling demeanor suggested he was only kidding about crushing the late parties, nobody wanted to test the theory. They were too hungry to keep from rushing to the table, anyway.

"We ended up with a fine spread after all," Demoman said while looking over the table. It really resembled something that he would have come home to, though the table was much shorter and the setting much less extravagant.

"Sure did," agreed Engineer as he placed down plates and silverware for everyone.

Heavy set down the turkey, which had cooked to a golden brown with the stuffing inside slightly burnt (a compromise with Pyro).

"Hmmph fffmph!" Pyro yelled, skipping over excitedly with Medic following behind him. The firebug held a covered dish, the contents of which were kept secret to the very end.

"When are we going to find out what top secret thing you guys were cooking over there for the past hour and a half?" asked Soldier.

Medic and Pyro gave each other a knowing glance. Pyro giggled childishly. "Not until after dinner," Medic stated, taking his seat.

"Hmmph," Pyro agreed with a nod.

When everyone was sitting down and ready to eat, Engineer looked around the table. "So...anyone wanna say Grace or somethin'?"

Everyone else shrugged. They all pointed at Soldier to take charge on it. He was better at that sort of thing.

"Oh, sure." Soldier stood up and saluted first, then put his hand over his heart. "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, or your preferred deity and or Earth Mother, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all!"

"Amen," everyone else said as Soldier took his seat.

The group enjoyed their meal and each other's company. Even though they were currently without their families, they were happy having each other. Including Scout, who gave up complaining after tasting the comforting food, but still acted pouty because he missed his Ma.

"You'll get ta see her soon, lad," Demoman told him. "Th' train can't stay buggered ferever. Somebody from HQ'll see thot it's down an' come te repair it. Hopefully they'll see fit ta give us all a lift outta here while they get it fixed."

"Here, here," Soldier toasted with the remnants of his beer.

"Everyone left room for dessert, right?" Sniper asked. Everyone nodded.

"Hhph!" Pyro clapped eagerly and looked to Medic. Medic nodded. He grabbed the cover off the tray holding the super secret dessert item they had worked so hard on.

Gasps went all around the table. Nobody knew quite what they were looking at, but it smelled amazing and looked quite tasty anyway.

"It is pumpkin streusel," Medic said. "A combination of mein Great Grandmozza's and Pyro's Aunt's recipes. Enjoy."

Everyone did. When they'd stuffed themselves into contentment, everyone looked at Scout almost expectantly.

"What? I got somethin' on my face?" he asked, remembering to look annoyed. He swished a napkin around his chin.

"No, we're jus' wonderin' if y'all had a decent Thanksgivin' yet," said Engineer as he polished off the last few crumbs upon his plate.

All eyes were suddenly on Scout. The Bostonian fumbled with his napkin, rolling it around between his fingers. He still missed his Ma and his brothers, her super sweet and oh so delectable pumpkin pie, hanging out and wrestling with his brothers in front of the TV, even his Aunt Berta's evil kissy face and crushing hugs. But he had to admit, the day turned out better than he had ever expected.

"Yeah, I guess so," Scout mumbled hesitantly. His eyes grew large and puppyish. A wide frown grew upon his lips. "You guys ain't gonna go mentioning how much I cried this afternoon...are ya?"

"Naw," everyone confirmed.

"I 'ave ta admit, I was close to bawlin' meself when I saw that busted up train station," Sniper admitted.

"Same here," said Engineer.

"Aye," Demoman stated, lifting his whiskey flash.

The other men also nodded in agreement. Scout hadn't been the only one missing a traditional Thanksgiving with family or other loved ones.

"Sometimes life throws you a curve ball," said Scout, taking the most time out of his life he'd ever taken to reflect on something (a whole seventeen seconds). "But you just lean into it and take your base, I guess!"

"Sounds good," Sniper agreed. And he didn't know much about baseball.

Scout sighed and clutched at his napkin nervously. "Hey, guys," he began. Everyone's attention focused on Scout. "I just wanna say..."

Everyone stared at him, waiting.

Scout chewed at his bottom lip.

"You guys are the best pals a kid from Boston could ever have!" he blurted out, overcome by a tsunami wave of FEELS. "I kinda wanna hug all of you, but not really, 'cause that's kinda lame and girly."

"Girly?!" both Soldier and Demoman yelled while standing up from their chairs.

"Hug is not girly!" Heavy also declared. Sniper and Engineer nodded in agreement.

"Hphhffh!" Pyro cheered with his arms out. He pointed at Scout.

"Pyro's right, let's show Scout how manly a hug can be!" Soldier grinned maniacally and lunged over the table at Scout, along with Demoman, and then everyone else got into the act, even Medic (who usually hated expressing any emotions other than psychotic bloodlust and glee).

"Waaaaah!" Scout was surrounded by manly arms of crushing might, all in the name of friendship and good feelings.

"C'mon, git over here, Spy!" Engineer called while wearing a huge grin.

"Do I have to?" Spy whined.

"YES!" everyone shouted.

Sighing a long sigh, Spy walked over and gingerly joined the group hug. "Indeed. Well...Happy Zhanksgiving, Scout, everyone."

"Happy Thanksgiving!" everyone said to each other.

"And happy Thanksgivin' ta everyone else, especially everyone who managed ta sit through this mushy little story!" said Scout, winking. "I swear one day I'll be written with decent characterization by this chick!"

"Here, here!" Soldier yelled.

"Here, here!" everyone else cheered.

End.


End file.
